An Incident at Ponizovje
by Gold Dust Woman
Summary: A oneshot based on MGS3, slight hinting at a BossEVA pairing


This is just a short little aside I wrote some time ago just for the hell of it. It is basically a novelization of a particular scene from MGS3 (so there be spoilers, yar) and is seen from the point of view of The Boss, my favorite character from the game. I may extend this into a more in-depth story at some point if I feel like it.

* * *

"Get your hands off me! I'm not going anywhere!"

I watched from the shadows as Sokolov continued to struggle against the guards. The old man had guts, I'll give him that. But it would be a completely different story when Volgin stepped in.

"Really now. How many times must I tell you?" Speak of the devil. The GRU colonel stepped onto the docks at the top of the stairs, with his newest playmate in tow. The young blonde girl cast a quick glance in my direction over the rim of her glasses. Behind her, Volgin grinned coldly as he raised a badly scarred hand to her shoulder. A second later the girl's slight body was seized by spasms. After several agonizing moments he released her, sending her tumbling down the stairs. She landed with a thud on the stone dock.

"Tanya!" Sokolov cried.

Volgin glared at him. "Each time you resist, your lover will suffer the consequences. Is that clear?"

"Volgin...!" Sokolov started to rush forward, but was promptly shoved back by a guard. He glanced quickly in my direction, and then back at Volgin. "Damn you...!"

Another wicked smirk creased Volgin's disfigured face as he stepped forward to pick up Tanya one-handed like a rag doll. His other hand wrapped around to fondle her chest. I closed my eyes for a brief moment, trying not to appear too disgusted, and opened them in time to witness the girl in the throes of another violent jolt. Her black panty hose shredded under the strain, until finally Volgin released her. She fell forward again, landing with enough force to knock her glasses off her face. Disoriented, she crawled about on hands and knees searching for them. Sokolov started to rush to her aid when a guard grabbed him and shoved him toward the warehouse entrance. Their path was soon blocked.

"Hold it right there, traitor." Ocelot stepped onto the dock, revolver in hand, spurs jingling with every step. He took a moment as always to show off his fancy twirling, eyeing Sokolov the entire time. The scientist cowered.

"Let's find out just how lucky you are."

I watched out of the corner of my eye as he revealed a single bullet in the palm of his hand, which he gingerly loaded into a chamber. He then proceeded to draw two more revolvers, one from each of the concealed holsters strapped to his person.

"One of these guns has a single bullet in it," Ocelot explained. "I'm going to pull the trigger six times in a row." He waved one of the guns in Sokolov's direction, eliciting a high-pitched squeak from the scientist. "Are you ready?"

Not waiting for an answer, Ocelot began expertly juggling the guns. _Click. Click. Click._ I think even my heart skipped a beat every time he pulled a trigger. No doubt Sokolov's did too. _Click. _Ocelot grinned smugly. _Click._

"Aaah...!" Sokolov squealed like a little girl, cowering on the ground. A dark wet spot quickly formed on the front of his pants. This time I shook my head discernably.

"Looks like your luck hasn't run out yet," Ocelot glowered. I kept my eyes locked on one of the guns, watching as it flew in a much higher arc than the others as it descended toward Ocelot's waiting hand. At the last second I willed myself to move. My hand shot out to intercept the weapon, snatching it from the startled Ocelot, and following its downward momentum to fire it into the water. I think even Volgin gasped when that bullet was ejected.

"There is no such thing as luck on the battlefield," I said, eyeing Volgin. He ignored me, signaling for the guards to take Sokolov into the warehouse. I turned to Ocelot.

"You'd better stay in line from now on. The Cobras will take care of him." I returned the boy's revolver to him, but not before deftly disassembling it. He looked surprised and angry when he wound up with a handful of parts, and stomped off, looking very much like a disobedient son who had just been scolded by his mother. Mother. Son. It still sounded strange to me. I was lost in thought for a second until Volgin's voice caught my attention.

"Boss, has the CIA dog been disposed of yet?"

I stared out over the water as clouds gathered overhead. In the darkness I thought I saw something move. No, I know I saw something move. He was here. But they didn't need to know that.

"The Pain is dead," I replied simply after a long silence.

"What!" Volgin roared. He slammed both fists into the wall several times, the stone buckling under his rage. He stopped, staring at his hands. "He may be a child, but he's definitely one of yours." Slowly he unclenched his fists, allowing the bullets wedged between his fingers to fall to the ground. "I fear Khruschev may have a hand in this. We've no time to lose. You must eliminate him before the final test."

I lowered my head. "Don't worry. They'll be able to handle it."

A second later, the sound of wheels rolling on concrete could be heard. A decrepit old man clad in moss-green camouflage appeared from inside the warehouse, pushed in a wheelchair by a thin man in spiderweb-patterned camo.

"I'm leaving him to you, The Fear," I said. Instantly the younger man leapt from the dock, darting across the surface of the water and disappearing into the rapidly approaching night. Volgin watched for a moment before turning back to the wheelchair-bound soldier.

"The old man is always sleeping," he stated the obvious. "Is he all right?"

"The End is saving what life he has left in him for battle," I explained. "Normally he is dead. But when the time is right he will wake up."

Just then, the clouds relented and unleashed their burden of moisture. I looked up to the sky, relishing the cool drops on my face.

"And when he does, it will be 'The End' for the boy."

Volgin said nothing, instead turning his attention to the girl, who had sat stoically by throughout the entire affair. He jerked her roughly to her feet by her arm.

"Sokolov isn't worth your love," he whispered in her ear, loud enough for me to hear, and added lasciviously, "You can entertain me until the rain stops."

He then walked off, his chants of "Kuwabara...kuwabara..." echoing in his wake. The girl turned frightened eyes in my direction, but instead of looking away as I usually did, I met her gaze briefly. I felt her plight very plainly. It was all too familiar to me. She had known pain for so long she had forgotten what pleasure felt like. She needed someone to remind her. Maybe I could...

I couldn't believe that thought just entered my mind.


End file.
